


DRUNK - STUTTERS.

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, death tw, drinking tw, enjoy it nontheless!, i wanted to finish it though so uh sorry if it's not my best work, this is really short but i got writers block so thats why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 18:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17268995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He’s been sober for a year now, but a bottle of liquor is looking good right about now. Just so he can feel at ease, stop feeling so anxious about it.Just one drink.





	DRUNK - STUTTERS.

**Author's Note:**

> TW WARNING: This work contains drinking and character death. it's not THAT detailed or huge whatsoever, but if it triggers you in any way, I'd choose not to read it for the sake of your own benefit.

“You  _ promise  _ you’ll call me every now and then?” Asked Stan Marsh as he went on the tips of his toes to kiss his husband on the cheek, a tender smile shining brightly up at him. They were standing at the door of their house, the house they planned to grow old in as soon as Leo came back from a job offer he had in Washington. “Of course I will, silly.” The blonde answered with a soft chuckle; the last one Stan will hear come from him. “Good. I just want to make sure you stay safe, travels and all.” Stan hugged him for a moment, but he didn’t want to let go. It was time for them to say goodbye, so that Leo wouldn’t miss his flight.

 

“I’m gonna’ miss you, Stan Marsh.”

 

“And I’m going to miss you as well, Leopold Butters Marsh.” Stan laughed and that got a goofy smile in return.

 

It was a foggy morning, the concrete covered in puddles, and the grass was soggy. It was raining the night before, but neither of them were aware of it, drowning the sound of rain droplets out, not on purpose, by watching old movies. Butters let out a melancholy sigh as he held two suitcases in his fragile, thin hands as he walked out, leaving Stan there in the doorway.

 

* * *

 

  
  


 

It was two weeks. Stan only ever got one call and it was on the day Leo made it safely to Washington. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three weeks and three days. Leo is just busy, he kept reminding himself. He got to work with some amazing artists, working on a mural they were putting up in Washington. It must take all of his energy by the end of the day.

 

Stan bets none of them were as amazing as Leo, though.

 

* * *

 

 

When it hits a month, Stan is worried. Never do any of his calls get answered. 

 

He’s been sober for a year now, but a bottle of liquor is looking good right about now. Just so he can feel at ease, stop feeling so anxious about it.

 

Just one drink.

 

* * *

 

 

A drink turned into two. After two, it made its way to five. Then, at the end of the sixth bottle, Stan was done. He forced himself up from the kitchen table, legs feeling shaky, his stomach churning. He’s going to puke.

 

When he’s just about to make it to the sink, he fell.

 

He fell straight towards the edge of the glass counter and he hit his head.

 

He’s bleeding out onto the floor from his skull. He can’t force himself to get up now. And his phone is upstairs, ringing. It’s the last thing he hears before he blacks out for good.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Stan, it’s me. Sorry for not calling ya’ sooner, it’s been really busy and by the end of the day I’m tired out of my mind, hah.” Butters said into his phone, leaving a message so Stan can get it later. But he never will, little did Butters know. 

 

“I’m fine, just so ya’ know. Sorry if I gave ya’ a fright or anythin’. I’m leaving tomorrow to come back home. Call me when you can. I love you.”

 

Then he hung up.

 

 

* * *

People were gathered in pews. Organ music played softly in the back. They were mourning quietly all to themselves. Butters sat in the front row near Sharon and Randy, Stan’s parents.

 

“Would anyone else want to say a few words?” With that, Butters got up and sniffled to himself. He never would have thought he’d be walking up to stand behind Stan’s casket.

 

Leo gulped. It took him a while to find his words.

 

“Stan and I weren’t very close when we were kids. And I found that funny when we hit our teenage years, because we were inseparable at that point.” He chuckled softly, but it seemed forced. “We would joke about our height differences, tell each other about our interests. A-and, we helped each other out when we needed it.” 

 

The blonde had tears running down his face, but he kept going. “He helped me through my nightmares and breakdowns sometimes. I helped him with his drinking problem.” 

 

All the tired and tear stained eyes were staring at him. “And-d,” He breathed deeply in, “And the drinking is what killed him. Even if that is, it’s still my fault, in a way. I didn’t call him, give him closure of any kind.” He was sobbing his eyes out now. Having a breakdown. And Stan wasn’t there to help him through it.

 

“Ge-geez, I’m just- I just want him to know I love him. That I’m sorry, too.” He fiddled with the wedding ring on his finger. He was almost done.

 

Leo looked down at Stan, wiping away his own tears as best as he could. They still kept flowing. He’s tired. He feels guilty. His husband is gone. 

 

Dead as a doornail and he couldn’t do anything about it.

 

_ “I’m going to miss you so much, Stan Marsh.” _


End file.
